EMILY

I knew he was out there before I stepped back out onto the balcony after grabbing a refill of my coffee. My heart sped up a little bit, and my body began to tingle as he ran past me down on the beach. It didn’t make me freeze this time. The tears didn’t come nor did I turn back. I just stood there, drinking my coffee and watching him.

This beautiful man from so long ago, his legs pounding over the sand and his arms pumping at his side as he ran. The waves tried to circle around his feet as he expertly dodged them, keeping his pace, as though he had run the shoreline a million times. I saw the shadow of a darkened sweat line moving down his shirt, his skin glistening in the sun from the dampness. His long curls bounced up and down, matching his steps as he ran. God! He was still so beautiful after all these years. Elliot could not be the man trying to scare me. I refused to believe it. Evil couldn’t come in a package so perfect. Evil should be ugly and repulsive.

His pace slowed as if he could sense someone watching him, and I stepped back against the wall of the beach house when he glanced up my way. His eyes scanned along the buildings and the homes that guarded the coastline. Using his hand to shield the sunlight from his eyes, his face turned toward where I stood in the shadow on the balcony. He stopped, still gazing upward to where I stood. I didn’t think he could see me but I wasn’t sure.

Without a thought as to what I was doing, my hand lifted and I waved, just for a brief moment. Just a tiny movement on my part. Elliot just stood still, his feet planted in the sand.

For one moment I dreamed I could feel his thoughts and he felt mine. The same chemistry that brought us together a long time ago, the spark, it was still there. The current running from the man standing on the beach to the woman standing in the shadows on a balcony above, it still existed after all this time.

I could still feel the love and the desire I had for this man, a love that, no matter how hard I tried to make it go away, was still there. Only this time the feelings filled me with warmth instead of pain. It felt like his arms curling around me, holding me again, making me whole after so long. It felt safe, like finally coming home. For one moment in time.

He started to run along the beach again, away from me, not looking back. I stood there for another minute or two and then I waved again.

“Goodbye,” I whispered to the fading man running along the ocean. “Goodbye.”

Andrea stepped outside and stood quietly next to me.

“Do you think he saw you?” she asked.

“I don’t really know. I think maybe he could sense something or he felt it in some way,” I answered. “At least I hope so.”

She looked at me and took my hand.

“He could feel it. I felt something as I stood here and watched. Love is kind of like that. Powerful in such a way you can feel the aura between the two of you even when you are not side-by-side. I don’t know him, but I could feel something so strong between the two of you, something beautiful and rare. You just need to find it again and cherish the gift.”

She looked so sure of her words and I wanted to believe them. What I feared the most was finding out she was wrong and the love between Elliot and myself died a long time ago. It was fear that kept me from searching for the truth. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to know the answer.

“Are you ready to head out soon?” I asked her.

“I’m packed, but I’m never ready to leave. There is something about the beach, this beach in particular, that is so peaceful and so calming. I feel safe here. The last few years I rarely feel safe anywhere except here,” Andrea replied.

“I know. I just want to stay. I want to walk the beach and write. It’s as if the crap from the outside world doesn’t exist here.”

I couldn’t explain it, but I felt Andrea understood what I meant more than anyone else. Three years ago, the man Andrea had been living with had almost beaten her to death before disappearing. It took months and months of physical therapy after numerous reconstructive surgeries to repair the damage he had done to her body. Her story still gave me shivers when I thought about it—that and rage for the fact that Ben, her former boyfriend got away with it.

She had lived through far worse than I ever had, and in some ways, she was still living it. I knew she could feel the calmness La Jolla radiated, the way one’s blood pressure magically lowered while sitting here.

She took a sip of her coffee and looked out at the ocean, scanning the long stretch of beach, the rocks with the water spraying up over the top when the waves crashed in.

“Why don’t you write?” she asked. “I think you would be so good at it. You’ve been editing other authors’ books forever. Maybe you should write your own.”

“Fear mostly,” I admitted. “I guess I never really believed I could write professionally. I want to. It’s been my dream for years. I have stories playing out in my head all the time. I’ve even started jotting some of them down on paper. I think, maybe, it’s the fear no one would like them that holds me back. That and my lack of self-discipline to actually start writing and finish the damn thing.”

I was being brutally honest with her. I have wanted to write since I was a little girl. But somehow along the way, I got the idea that my stories wouldn’t be good enough. I needed to change my way of thinking. It was definitely holding me back from my dreams.

“You would be a great writer, Emily. You have so much passion and your blog is fantastic! You’re wonderful at encouraging your clients in their own writing—turn it on yourself. Don’t write for other people. Write for yourself, and it’ll go better than you think. Just sit down and start the story and let it flow out of you. Do it every day and turn it into a habit.”

Maybe she was right. I just needed to let go of my fears and do it.

Maggie came walking outside, coffee in hand and smiling.

“You two look so serious,” Maggie observed. “Are you solving world peace or something?” she asked.

“Yes,” I assured her. “We have it all figured out.”

“Great, You’re both elected.”

We laughed.

The morning flew by as we took one more stroll on the beach. I didn’t worry so much about running into Elliot as we walked. I said goodbye to his running form earlier. Not goodbye, more like see you again someday … I hope.

We finished packing and straightening up the beach house. The ragtop rolled back on the jeep and the music cranked, we left just before noon. Singing along to the song “That’s What I Like” by Bruno Mars as we headed back to Phoenix and reality, our bodies left, but my heart stayed on the beach of La Jolla.